A New Kind of Curse (T-Rated Version, Revised)
by Miravale
Summary: A T-rated version of the original. A somewhat romantic fanfiction involving a fearless girl who stumbles across a sleeping Michael Myers.
1. Chapter 1

**A New Kind of Curse**

**Chapter One**

_ Hello everyone, this is a refurbished version of my original story, which was originally intended as a oneshot including an OC and Michael Myers. I decided to redesign it because Myers is so out of character in the original, along with some rather cheesy moments between Michael and OC, I have decided to redo the original and come up with this version. Some instances may seem a bit choppy, but that's mostly because I replaced some content with a more modest version. I'd also like to state that I actually have a second chapter almost finished. :-) Thanks for reading! _

Amidst the haunted darkness of Lampkin Lane, a girl crunched along quietly in the dry grass and dirt. She was sneaking about in another day of being trapped in this nightmare. She couldn't remember how she got there; all she knew was that surviving these trials granted her a longer chance to rest in 'purgatory', as she called it, which was a dark and quiet place that didn't require her to always be on her toes.

And so, she spent every day of this life repairing generators, searching chests, and attempting to escape from various spine-chilling monsters and murderers.

The girl's eyes cast about quickly and she was surprised by a metal trap door buried in the dirt that was flipped open. Trails of inky black mist swirled out of it. As much as she wished to jump through it and escape, her senses warned her that she should take this chance, and look around for something useful to take with her.

_ Damn me for still having my brain_, she cursed herself, as she turned away from the trap door and entered the backyard of a rotting green home. She looked around the yard for a chest, but the only thing there was a rusty, bloodied hook and a broken down tricycle.

The girl walked up the porch steps and entered the decrepit home. The sound of her own footsteps along the wooden floor raked at her ears, and she flinched; but nothing could be done of it, and she continued up the stairs.

When she reached the upstairs floor, her heart fell to her stomach as a rather eerie sound erupted from one of the bedrooms. She froze on the spot with her ears pricked.

It almost sounded like a faint snore.

Ideas flitted around the girl's mind as the sound occurred again, and it was without a doubt, a snore.

Curiosity overcame her. She had to at least see what was creating that noise before she left the trial. She took care to creep quietly along the floor to the room at her right, and cautiously peered around the doorframe to see what was inside.

Another quiet snore emanated from the room, and the girl's hand flew to her mouth to stifle a surprised gasp.

Laying down on the bed, knife in hand, was the infamous Michael Myers; her least favorite killer.

_ That's why there's no heartbeat_, she thought to herself as she continued to peer at him nervously from the hallway.

She gazed at his sleeping body as his chest rose and fell. It seemed so unnatural, seeing the killer sleeping peacefully when at this point, she was normally trying her best to escape his relentless grasp. She was utterly astonished by the notion that this man even _could_ sleep. She also couldn't understand why he'd decided to take a nap now; didn't he know that she was still there, waiting to be stabbed?

_ I guess it could be a trap..._

That seemed rather outrageous though... why would Michael Myers need to use himself as a trap? The girl shook her head and took a breath. Curiosity was getting the best of her, and what did she have to lose? At this point, being stabbed a few times and getting thrown on a hook was just a normal day for her... she might as well try to see what's going on here.

It was impossible to completely mask the sound of her footsteps, so she began by removing her shoes and cautiously tip toeing into the bedroom, her socks masking any noise made by her feet. Every fiber of her being was begging her to turn around and run. It was unimaginably uncomfortable being in the same room as him, and she had to force herself to keep moving closer and closer. But she was also excited, because it felt good to be doing something out of the ordinary; something other than running for her life.

She eyed the knife wrapped gently beneath the stalker's sleepy fingers. It was coated with a fresh layer of her late teammates' blood, the sight of which caused her to shiver. Disturbed, she still crept closer to the bed. She could hear his breaths now, in sync with the movement of his chest. She studied his sleeping figure with a curious gaze, intrigued.

The man she'd been murdered by hundreds, if not thousands of times laid before her, completely vulnerable and unaware of her presence. The girl's wide eyes flitted across his masculine figure, and her heart fluttered innocently as she wondered what he looked like beneath that suit.

Without much thought, the girl leaned in dangerously close to the stalker's face, and held her breath as she peered into the eye holes of his mask.

Her skin was crawling.

But she had nothing to lose, and everything to gain...

The girl's fingers travelled silently to the zipper of the killer's boiler suit, tugging it down gently. It began to catch a few times at the neck of the suit, and she attempted to quietly wrestle it down. After a few attempts of jiggling it around as gently as possible, the zipper gave way with a quiet _zrrrrrrrrrrrp_.

Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes fell upon Myers' body, silhouetted beneath a surprisingly clean white T-shirt. She listened carefully to his breathing for a moment, as he let out a gentle snore every few moments. Her hands shook as she studied his body, wide-eyed, with her fingers still gripped lightly on the zipper of his suit.

The stalker's breath hitched on a rather noisy snore, and she jumped, startled. The killer didn't move or stir though, and she stayed in her spot.

Her eyes cast downward to his stomach, and the zipper that remained somewhere just beneath his belly button. A dark thought entered her mind as she looked at his sculpted form beneath the T-shirt, and glanced back up to the mask that she'd stared down in her own demise so many times. She feared this man more than many of the others. But she was unable to contain herself as a warmth began to spread within her own belly. She gazed silently, entranced as she continued to study his shape; the hard lines of his collar bones, and the way the skin of his neck disappeared under the fabric of his shirt.

She wanted to trace her fingers along the line of that point. Myers' breaths came in heavy waves, and her breaths were beginning to match his.

The girl was overcome with desire as she continued to study his sleeping figure. In this state he seemed so calm, and so peaceful… almost human. She was formulating an idea of the best way to touch him, when she began to second guess herself.

Besides the fear of being suddenly stabbed and murdered, the opportunity seemed too good to pass up. What did she really have to lose?

Even still, she was very excited with a strange mixture of fear and excitement, and the desire to feel something so exciting. She tugged on his zipper, revealing a pair of dark colored boxers. She scoffed at the sight of his underwear, as if they were on the same level now that she'd seen them. She looked up to his face nervously, relieved when a quiet snore escaped his throat.

The girl looked back down at him and stared, mesmerized at the silhouette of Michael's body; something she never imagined seeing. He appeared so calm, and peaceful now.

She couldn't help herself. She took a deep breath, and prepared herself for the best or the worst. Her hand raised and hovered for a moment just above the sleeping killer, before reaching out with one of her fingers and tracing it across his stomach. The T-shirt caught beneath her fingers slightly as she trailed it in a straight line that went right over his belly button. Adrenaline was pumping through her and she grinned to herself, while also staring at him like a baby who'd just seen Christmas lights for the first time.

Beneath her fingers was a warm, hardened body that caused her heart to somersault, and all logic flew out the window. She drew in a deep breath as a gleam of light reflected off Myers' knife as she moved and was reminded of how many times her bloody body was carried off, to be gruesomely thrown on a hook by this same man, and she decided not to worry after that. Once again she became self conscious and imagined what would happen if Myers woke up right now, and shuddered to herself.

She would be in for one hell of a trial.

The girl moved closer, slowly inching her hand once again toward Michael Myers' body. She could not believe that she was doing this. She was so incredibly turned on by the sight of his toned body, and she wanted to continue groping at his masculine form so badly that she had to remind herself to listen to his breathing.

Finally her fingertips brushed across the fabric of his underwear, and she laid her hand lightly on top of him. She breathed out gently, glancing up to his face; her body was trembling.

She squeezed Michael Myers softly, enjoying the way it felt.

_How is he not waking up? _She thought to herself, eyeing the stalker suspiciously.

Her fingers snaked through the opening in his boiler suit and she gasped as her fingertips brushed against the actual skin of Myers' body. An odd shock was sent throughout her body at her first touch of his skin. She shivered slightly in an attempt to shake off the eerie sensation, entranced by the fact that she was successfully placing her fingertips atop the body of a monstrous serial killer. Now she used both hands, worming them up beneath his shirt, and resting them lightly on his abdomen. She took a few more moments to enjoy the warmth passing beneath her fingertips, relishing every bump and muscle. His skin was surprisingly soft and smooth. Not to mention it was as if he'd spent these months doing workouts daily at the gym. She was absolutely entranced.

The girl's pleasure was short lived as her senses came flooding back to her, no longer clouded by an infatuous desire. She was beginning to regret herself as she realized that this may just be the most senseless thing she'd ever done in her life, including the first one.

Without a second thought she turned her back to the stalker and bent over to put her shoes back on.

A sly grin began to spread across her face as she thought about the fact that she'd just fondled Michael Myers while he was sleeping, and did not wake him up.

The grin was quickly wiped from her face as a large hand suddenly clamped over her shoulder, yanking her around and facing her with the now awakened, hard-bodied Michael Myers, who's suit had been zipped back up halfway. His hand was still clenched around her shoulder as she stared up at him, wide-eyed and petrified. Once again, she was face-to-face with her most dreaded killer.

She attempted to struggle away from his grasp, turning away from his ghostly face and flailing like a fish out of water. No luck. The killer's grasp was strong against her small wrist. He wasn't letting her go.

She cried out in frustration when he whipped her back around to face him once again. Anger bubbled up inside her eyes as she began to realize her defeat; she thought she'd outdone the killer.

It was as if he could sense that she was giving up. The feeling that she experienced was ten times worse than the usual feeling of being a deer in the headlights; this felt like he now actually had a reason to kill her.

The girl screamed aloud in terror as Michael Myers slammed her body up against the wall. She stared into the dark holes of his mask and her skin crawled as she caught a fast glimpse of his murderous eyes, and what she interpreted as a gleam of excitement that was within them. She began to realize he wasn't angry with her; he was toying with her.

The girl's hands instinctively flew up to Myers' that was gripped loosely around her throat. "I-I'm sorry!" She blurted out, unsure if he could even hear her words. "I wasn't trying to take advantage of you-"

Her sentence stopped short as Michael's arm slowly raised, ominously pointing the tip of his bloody kitchen knife to her throat. She shrieked and attempted to wriggle free, but Michael's grip was tight. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face away, but she could feel the stalker's gaze studying her every move. She was not completely sure of this air that was felt between them; she could not tell if he was planning to devour her, or if he was just playing with her before he placed her on the dreaded hook.

_ Oh well, _she thought to herself dryly. _At least I got what I wanted…_

Her mind was shutting down, her consciousness evacuating into some dark corner that she'd developed over time, when the physical pain was overwhelming or when the fear was too much to handle. It was almost like an out of body experience, where instead of feeling the pain first hand, she sat beside herself and watched herself experience it. Over time this tactic saved her from breaking down into insanity and allowing her to keep hold of her human nature many times.

She was beginning to recede into this state of mind, when, almost as if he could sense that she was drifting off, she was startled by the sound of her own jacket being sliced in half by Myers' kitchen knife. She screamed and looked down at her tattered clothing that now hung open from the sides. Her eyes widened in horror as she stared down at her exposed shirt, attempting to quickly take in the sight so she knew exactly what the killer might be thinking. His hand was still clenched at her neck and shoulder, holding her still in front of him.

Once again, her head bent backward to look up into his ghostly mask. A hollow pit formed in her stomach as something told her that he was gazing back down at her, studying her; it felt as if he was seeing right into her soul.

Her hands grasped at Myers' wrist that held her fast against the wall. "Please, just kill me. Just kill me," she begged desperately.

A tear pricked her eyes as she realized he wasn't going to let her go that easily. He stood for a moment, and she imagined what his expression must be like under the mask. Would he wear a gruesome frown, or a deranged grin in a moment like this?

She couldn't imagine which before the killer's arm snaked around her waist, hoisting her up and pulling her toward the door. Myers' movements were as smooth as a snake as he carried her out of the doorway, even as she writhed and clawed at anything she could get her hands on, holding on for a few moments before being effortlessly tugged away.

She was unsure of where he was taking her as he stomped down the stairs. She prayed that he was headed for the door, and let out a grunt of anguish when he reached the bottom floor and turned away from it, heading instead for the kitchen.

As Myers brought the girl closer to the doorway, and idea struck her. She knew it wasn't the best idea, and she knew it wasn't going to stop him for long. At the last second before they passed through, the girl's legs flew up at either side of the door and she braced herself against his chest. Her head snapped forward and she was almost crunched into a ball by the sheer force of him walking, but she pushed back against him. The killer simply paused before taking a moment to assess the situation, then grabbing both of her legs around the front and drawing them tightly in. His other arm was wrapped underneath her armpits, crossing over her breasts. He turned sideways and walked her through the door.

She felt like a child who'd been throwing a fierce tantrum being forced into compliance by an angry parent. He handled her as if she were light as a feather.

Once they were in the threshold of the kitchen, Myers dropped the girl to her feet. She stumbled forward and glanced around the room while instinctively turning around to face the stalker behind her. She saw no escape save the door he brought her through, which he blocked with his body.

The girl stared angrily into the man's mask. She was hunched forward and clutching her elbow. He stood there, staring back at her. She felt like she could nearly sense his feelings at this point, although she would never know if her presumptions were true-but she could swear that he was grinning at her deviantly beneath the dirty latex mask.

It only angered her more. Without much thought, but with a last glimmer of hope, she dashed forward, faking to the left and leaping to the right. She thought she might be quicker than him, but in this case, she was outmatched. Myers caught on to her trick without even flinching, and he turned to catch her with ease.

The girl cried out furiously as the killer moved her farther back into the room. Her arms flailed as she was hooked around the waist by his strong forearm. He tossed the girl forward, causing her to stumble into the countertop with her back to him. She had no time to recuperate as Myers' hard body was almost immediately pressed up against hers. The countertop began biting into her hip bones.

Michael Myers was folded over her like a big spoon cupping a smaller one. The young girl shivered, goosebumps forming along her body as she could hear and feel the killers' breaths mere inches away from her ear. She jumped, startled as she felt Myers' fingers caressing the left side of her cheek with his right hand, which trailed along her jawline before falling to trace the skin of her neck. She cried softly in fear.

Myers' hand suddenly dropped, tracing across her chest and roughly grasping her hip, pulling her body closer to his.

The girl became even more fearful as she began to notice that warm feeling was beginning to return. With the way his body pressed against hers, holding her fast against the countertop, she felt like a mouse caught in a cat trap.

Her breaths were becoming heavy again, and she was nearly panting amongst a flurry of confusing feelings as his hands travelled over her body. Her heart beat fast and loud in her chest as her mind was overcome with desire. Her head was becoming cloudy as she sighed and her muscles began to release. Waves of warm infatuation were washing over her, and without her consent, she began to develop overwhelming feelings for this ruthless killer…

Until she finally began to question her state of mind.

_Is this what I really want?_

_ Should I try to run one more time? _

She glanced to the left and right, searching in jest for some way to get out of this situation; but Myers was watching, and held her tightly in place.

In an attempt to deny her own taboo feelings, the girl sighed in defeat, releasing herself and giving up again. She wasn't sure if it was her mind attempting to accept the situation and see it for the best, but she felt that in some terrible way, maybe she was enjoying this. She hadn't had any interesting or exciting encounter with a man since she was alive.

She was becoming entranced with him, falling farther and farther into a pit of burning obsession as he pressed himself even harder against the countertop. The killer's aura alone was permeating her body, clouding her judgement.

The Entity had warned before that this could happen with humans, if you spent too much time around them. But the Entity never imagined that a killer may actually do it on purpose.

Myers wouldn't normally do this. He had never been interested at all with any humans before, even in his earthly life. But something had changed within him as he'd watched and felt this crazy girl groping his "sleeping" body.

The girl was squeezed much too lightly against the sharp edge of the countertop. It bit into her skin until she cried out in pain, which only made matters worse, as Myers shifted his hips against her even she cried out for another time, her hands bracing against herself in a desperate but futile attempt to push her body back, Myers relented as if he'd had enough. He whipped her around to face him once again.

She stared up at the masked man in fear, a million thoughts crossing her mind.

_ What now? _

_ Is this the part where he slices me to pieces?_

_ Will he take me to the basement, find some chains and tie me up? _

_ Or will he just sacrifice me to the Entity?_

Myers grabbed his well worn kitchen knife from the counter nearby, studying it ominously for a moment before turning back to the girl. She jumped under his returning gaze, staring at him with a sense of nervous betrayal.

The stalker grabbed her face roughly, pulling her close to him and tilting her head to the side. She cried out softly in terror, her wide eyes glancing around as Myers brought his knife to the point of her neck just below her ear.

The girl cried out in pain as the killer's knife pressed into her skin, slicing it open. Tendrils of warm blood cascaded beautifully down her smooth neck. When she pulled away instinctively, Myers yanked her back into place, holding her still by pressing her body into the counter with his. When he was done, he pulled back to view his work.

_M.M., _written in deep slices planted carefully into the girl's skin.

Tears streamed down her terrified face as she straightened up and cried in front of him. She shook softly as he looked down at her with some aura unintelligible. Then, his fingers roughly grasped her chin and turned her face up to look at him.

She stared up into his eyes and heard a voice emanate from inside her head. It was solid and deep, causing that passionate warmth to erupt within her once again. A shiver went through her spine.

_**Mine. **_

The girl's fingers travelled up to the stinging pain on her neck. The cuts were deep enough that the mark would be there forever, if the Entity didn't erase it when she left the trial.

She stared up at him with an uncertain gaze before he bent and deftly threw her over his shoulder. The girl did not wiggle or struggle as Michael Myers walked her outside of the house; she laid across his shoulder limply, almost comfortably, her mind cloudy and tired.

Somehow, she felt safe in the place she was in now, tucked between the crook of Myers' neck and shoulder. The warmth of his exposed skin brushed across hers, sending another shiver throughout her body. She breathed in deeply, her fingers brushing across the texture of the killer's boiler suit, some type of sadness overcoming her as she realized she wasn't sure if she would even remember this after she died.

Once the murderer found his way to the hook in the backyard of the rotted green home, he placed the girl on her feet in front of it. He looked down into her face, and watched the tears begin to roll down her cheeks.

He stared down at her silently. He knew what she was thinking. But, he had no condolences to offer. He was bound by a contract of blood to continue making sacrifices to the Entity... Otherwise, there would be no seeing her ever again.

Unable to look at her a moment longer, Myers' hands went to the girl's armpits, and his body was spattered with her blood as he tossed her on the hook.

The girl wailed in excruciating pain, before gritting her teeth and turning her eyes to the murderer before her.

Her hands flew to the hook that pierced her shoulder. She struggled to garble out a sentence through the excruciating pain.

"I'll-see you again," she said, before the Entity's disgusting black arms appeared in the air above her, desecrating her body and dragging her upward into the black sky.

Myers watched as she disappeared.

He may have hoped that she was right.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

**Hello again everyone. I'd like to preface this by saying that now that I had to redo the tenses in this story also, because somehow I keep forgetting that I'm using third person and not first person. I'm always up for comments/criticism. Thanks for reading!**

**A New Kind of Curse**

Chapter Two

Cold, rusted metallic gears and conduits shifted beneath the girl's hands, the sounds of the generator echoing softly into the chilly night air. The loud, clanking sounds of it always made her so tense, and she wished there was a way to quiet these things down. Sadly, she hadn't found a way to do that just yet.

At the other side of this generator was Dwight, a helpful man, but sometimes painfully flighty; seems like he's always the first to hide when someone's in trouble or needs help.

At this point in her life-well, can you even call this a life?- she began to think her face had been permanently molded into a hopeless, fearful frown. How much longer did she have to do this before moving on to the next life?

Or was this the last one?

She didn't think she deserved to be sent to Hell, but she could hardly imagine a life worse than this one, being stabbed and beaten nearly every waking moment of this life.

She'd been nervously awaiting her next meeting with Myers, although surprisingly it hadn't come yet. She'd been wondering for days whether or not the Entity was aware of what happened between them. _Has it banned him from seeing me? _She wondered to herself. She wasn't exactly sure of how much time had passed, but she did know she'd encountered seemingly every killer multiple times since, but hadn't seen him again.

Somehow, she was actually disappointed. She'd been nervous to see him again, since she was unsure of the way his mind worked, or if he's even really got one at all. Will he remember what happened last time? Will he care, or experience any slight emotion that might represent that he does?

If that was the case, then how would that affect her time in the trials? Would the Entity eventually choose to have her lifted up, never to be seen again, tragically consumed by its cold, spidery fingers?

Lost in her reverie, the hair at the back of the girl's neck began to prickle, and she began to sense that she was being watched.

She threw a quick glance over her shoulder, and immediately let out a startled gasp.

There he was, in his villianeous glory. That empty white mask; the large, broad body.

Suddenly, flashbacks made an inherent attack on her brain. Her fingers fell from the generator. In the corner of her eye she saw Dwight jump up, and sprint away, but she hardly noticed.

She was back with Michael, the last time she'd seen him. Just before she left the trial.

He'd just placed her from his shoulder and planted her on the ground in front of him, taking a moment to study the girl he'd had his first romantic encounter with. She stared up into his mask and he looked down into her tearful eyes.

She said she'd see him again. Then without a moment's pause, he'd hoisted her up, and hung her by the neck on that old, rusty hook.

He'd watched as the Entity came down, lifting her up and taking her away to some other dimension he'd never been to.

And now, here she was again; back within his world. Back within his realm of control.

The girl once again snapped back into consciousness as the faint sounds of a heartbeat began to crescendo into a mind-numbing _thump thump thump._

She was just turning her body to run the hell away, when the bloodthirsty killer stomped right past her, bloodied knife poised in the air, taking off after the jittery Dwight.

Her hand flew to her chest as she fell to the ground, heaving out a few shaky breaths as she watched Myers chase Dwight into the distance. His pace never exceeded a from walk, but he was still _so fast. _

Whatever he had in store for her, she wasn't sure if she could escape.

_Then again, do I really want to escape him? _she asked herself.

She nearly punched herself in the face at the thought. _Don't be so stupid and crazy! _the girl chastised herself. _You can't fall in love with a fucking killer. _

But somehow, deep within her heart, she could not deny that she might have been craving to see him again, and to be close to him again. Hell, she'd even dreamed of being carried over his shoulders one more time, even if it was on the way to the dreaded hook...

She took a moment to steady herself, and continued working on the generator, the sounds of it signaling that it was just about done.

Just as soon as the gen popped and she was shrouded in a white, iridescent glow, she heard a scream in the distance, and was made aware that Dwight had finally been taken down only a few meters away. She watched stoically as she crept away from the generator and Dwight's silhouetted body was lifted off the ground, then thrown onto a hook.

That all-too familiar scream erupted throughout the entire forest, and never fell short of sending her brain into a terrified frenzy. Before she could stop herself she began to sprint in the opposite direction of Dwight, finding herself in the old Ironworks building. Before she could stop herself the heartbeat erupted in her mind and she sprinted around a corner, hoping to find a good hiding place, when she was met with a hard-bodied Michael Myers and the sharp, piercing tip of his kitchen knife. It slashed right through her chest and she wailed in pain, sprinting forward, ducking boxes and barrels, in a desperate attempt to get away. But as she continued on for a few feet, with a clearly visible trail of blood leading directly to her current position, she was aware of the heartbeat disappearing.

Through a window, she watched as the killer stalked off into the forest once again.

She turned and began to climb the stairs, blood marking every step she took. Her brain began working to comprehend what had just happened.

For some reason, it seemed as if he did not actually mean to hit _her. _It was as if he stabbed her out of a mixture of instinct and surprise, as neither had a good visual of each other before that moment occurred.

_Don't get your hopes up, _she said to herself sternly.

..._But then why didn't he follow me? _

She cursed herself at the top of the stairs, seeing that someone else had already gathered the contents of this chest. With no other choice, as she didn't want to throw herself from the top story of this large building, she begrudgingly made her way back down to the bottom floor.

She became aware that Dwight's silhouette was still visible, now grasping at the Entity's claws and attempting to fight them from piercing his struggling body.

He didn't have much time left.

Ever the team player, the girl broke into action, her legs carrying her in a frantic sprint across the metallic floor and once again planting her feet into the crunching grass and dirt, doing her best to limp along to that fateful hook. As she neared the hook, placed dreadfully out in the open surrounded by no trees or sight-shelter, she began to hear Dwight's whimpers and desperate cries for help.

_Don't worry, you little baby. I'm coming to save you. _

Crouching at the base of the hook, and throwing a few distressed glances this way and that, she assumed that it was safe, and reached up to lift his heavy body from the hook. When his feet hit the ground, he sprinted off to the edge of the map, moaning and bleeding profusely.

The girl took off after him.

They rendesvoused behind a large rock and a conveniently placed tree. Dwight crouched to the ground and the girl's hands began moving this way and that over his body, patching up the wounds in an attempt to stop the bleeding. She healed him slowly, but made sure to see it all the way through.

Now, the girl crouched to the ground, staring emptily into the dirt as Dwight returned the favor.

After a few seconds, she was surprised as Dwight's hands stopped their healing and he turned to sprint away from her. By instinct she jumped up and began to follow him as he sprinted back toward the building. Then an omnipresent sound notified her that the killer was around here somewhere...

A few mere feet in front of her, Dwight threw a look over his shoulder and his eyes went wide. Then he changed his course of direction, leaping to the right and attempting to shield himself behind a fallen log...

All just as Michael brushed past her, nearly knocking her to the ground with his long-legged gait, all too quickly closing the gap between himself and her comrade, before bringing the blade down at the nape of Dwight's neck, sending him to the dirt in one fatal hit.

_"Aaaagghhh!" _Dwight screamed in terror. The girl watched as he was effortlessly hoisted into the air once again.

Dwight's arms and legs flailed as he attempted to struggle free of Myer's grasp. _"You tunneling BASTARD!" _he screamed.

At this point, she was beginning to feel like this was her fault. Even if she and Dwight never really got along, he was still her teammate. Still sort of/kind of her friend.

She could see the direction Myers was walking in. Maybe she could get there in time...

She began sprinting as quickly as her injured body would allow. She wasn't sure how he hadn't seen her trodding up next to him as he began to near the hook, although surely that mask didn't allow him the broadest field of view.

The girl jumped in front of Myers at the last second, planting herself right in front of the hook in a crouched position as Dwight continued to attempt to wriggle free.

She wasn't sure why, but for some reason this sometimes worked. She stared up at Michael with a mix of terror and hope, as he stood staring straight ahead, holding Dwight in his arms, unable to throw him on the hook as there was someone in the way.

_Only a few seconds before he realizes..._

_ SHIK!_ His blade whistled through the air, slashing her right at the neck, without even looking down at her for a second. He was too strong for Dwight to wriggle free, and she fell to the ground, helpless and weak, now that her plan had failed.

She looked up just as Dwight's body was tossed mercilessly onto the hook.

"I'm sorry, Dwight..." she murmured to herself, although surely he couldn't hear, as his body was mutilated and carried into the air, consumed by the Entity, and the pointed blade of the hook crashed to the ground just next to her with a metallic _TWANG._

Michael turned to her quickly, staring down at her for something like half of a second. Her heart nearly stopped, looking at him face to face again for the first time in a long time.

_What now?_

_ Have I ruined the mercy that he had chosen to show me? _

The girl began to realize that this was the end of that rope, when Michael stooped down, placing a thick hand around her neck and lifting her in the air, bringing her face merely inches from his mask. So close, she could hear his breaths going in, and out, forever calm and unhurried. Her hands struggled weakly with his, and her feet dangled high in the air.

He was staring at her still. She could feel him looking right into her eyes, even if she couldn't see them.

Then, a voice. In her head. Sounding just like her own thoughts, although she _knew _that this did not come from her.

**Do not interfere.**

Then she was thrown to the ground, discarded to the side like the shell of a pistachio, crashing onto her back so hard the breath was knocked out of her chest.

Her blurred vision stilled to see the killer stalking away, once again.

Lying on the ground like a helpless injured bird made her feel weak and pathetic.

Fear of the unknown is an impenetrable force. In her past life, fear drove her from many things. Fear of the dark, fear of spiders, fear of burglars or rapists. Those all seemed so mundane now. Oh, what she'd do to have those back.

This was so much different. Imagine, being trapped in a nightmare with a variety of different creatures or serial killers. Each with a contract to kill, in the most brutal way possible. And a demon that appears from thin air with long, spidery arms and claws to stab you and carry you up into the foggy abyss, to eat you, or whatever the hell it does.

Imagine getting used to that, or as used to it as you possibly could be. Imagine reaching the point in your life where you know you're going to die sometimes, and you know you're going to live sometimes, and you're basically okay with that. You know to expect being stabbed and thrown on a hook. It's just a day to day thing, now.

Then one day, that changes. Something is different now, but you don't know what, and you don't know what it's going to do to you.

That's the position she was in now. Lying on the ground, hardly able to move, only able to crawl. Lying in a pool of blood. Knife cuts covering her body. Unable to remain quiet and undetected, due to the immense amount of pain.

At first she didn't much care what happened to her anymore. She wasn't worried about the pain, or that fear, or the guilt of her comrades dying. As previously mentioned, it was just a daily thing.

But now, she had something to worry about. There was no longer a doubt in her mind that Michael was doing this on purpose. He had something planned for her, and she had no idea what.

Was it revenge? Did he feel as if she had taken advantage of him? Or had she sparked some kind of an obsession? What would that mean for her?

All these questions and more haunted her brain, as she cried quietly, crawling away in a last attempt to escape, if only for a moment.

A scream erupted from the woods behind her, and she needn't look to know that someone had just been thrown on a hook.

She heard footsteps crunching up next to her, and turned her head to see Jake running up to her.

Though she was thankful, she nearly cried out to tell him to go away. Hide. Try to live, without her. At this point, she just felt like a bad luck charm; Michael knew about where she was, and was also smart enough to know that someone was going to try and save her.

But she didn't. Hell, he probably wouldn't listen anyway.

She stared up emptily at her savior, thoughts and curiosities swirling in her brain. He was probably wondering why she was gazing at him, but she hadn't the energy to explain.

Here came that feeling, again. That "Myers is watching" type of feeling.

Her eyes snapped away from Jake the moment she noticed it, and looked down the way to see exactly that. A ghostly face shrouded in the shadows, simply watching them. Stalking. Gaining power.

"Jake, run!" she hissed.

"I'm almost do-"

"RUN!"

Maybe it was the shrill, desperate sound of her voice, but this time he listened. She looked up again to see that Myers was moving much more quickly now, blade once again poised high in the air.

"_Run!" _she cried again, helplessly, feeling as if she was watching a little puppy run into a busy street. Seemingly in slow motion, she watched Jake sprinting through the grass. Her heart swelled with a mixture of pity, anguish and sadness at the sight of him constantly looking over his shoulder, desperate and fearful, attempting to escape a bloodthirsty killer. She willed herself to get up, jump in front of him, do something, but her body would not allow her.

Finally, Jake couldn't run anymore. The blade came down, and so did he, crashing to the ground with a terrible cry that shook her heart and made her stomach turn. In the distance behind him, she saw the other survivor give up on its battle with the Entity, their arms falling to their sides as its claws punctured their mangled body.

This was it.

Without thought, tears began streaming down her face. She didn't even realize she was crying; actually, she didn't realize anything at all. No thoughts were going through her brain as she watched Michael carry a squirming Jake into the shed, and down the stairs; throwing his body on a hook in the disgusting, hellish basement. That scream penetrated the air once again, but this time, something was different...

Just her and Michael, now.


	3. Chapter 3

**A New Kind of Curse**

Chapter Three

_I always knew that you'd come back to get me_

_And you always knew that it wouldn't be easy_

_To go back to the start to see where it all began_

_Or end up at the bottom to watch how it all ends_

Cold, swirling blackness enveloped two beings standing face to face within a plane of incomprehensible, unexplainable reality. The air was thick and heavy, livable only for something like these two... _creatures, _or _monsters, _as a mere human would call them.

The creatures communicated, but not in a way that any regular _person _could fathom... indescribable in its nature, and only translateable by the two engulfed within it. So as you read these words on a page, please understand that this is not the way it truly was spoken.

Each being stared at each other with a certain contempt that could only be seen between two rivals of incredible power; one that was initially powerless in any other environment than it was currently in, and the other, powerful in any environment _except _the one that it was currently in.

And so explains the relationship between the Entity and Michael Myers.

Way back when, in the creation of this _game, _as some may call it, the Entity came across a deal with some greater power, and managed to capture many horrendous beings within its control, granting them power only within certain stages, or _maps, _as some call them, of this "life", where the Entity may be inaccessible and therefore unharmed by these creatures who are much stronger than itself. And as it is now, these creatures have not yet discovered a way to usurp the power of the Entity, and take back their righteous freedom to murder by their own free will.

This is the only way that a force such as Myers could possibly be captured and detained, and forced to commit a will other than its own. Quite pathetic of the Entity itself, although the Entity always seemed to believe itself to be the king of all kings. Myers, though, knew the difference between himself and this monster. He had never forgotten his true power, the way some of the other "killers" had. The Nurse, The Witch, The Doctor, and The Trapper, for example. Each had almost completely forgotten their pasts, while Michael always remembered and held onto his insatiable lust for the slicing of flesh, spatters of blood, and gurgles of pain that he'd retained from the "real" world. All the while, most of the others forgot their memories and continued to work under the Entity's basic contracts, while Michael's dreams of unrestricted slaughter often reappeared freshly within his deeply tainted, evil mind.

But now he stood, characteristically still, but actually _listening _to the orders given to him by another being.

The Entity spoke to him with contempt, as it always had. Not many could understand the actual emotions that came from this being, although Michael was able to recognize them without a moment's thought. This being was, quite simply, _jealous... _after all, why would it dispose of other creatures to commit these amounts of bloodshed if it wasn't capable of doing so itself? A creature who so strongly thirsted for blood, but would hardly reach out its own claws to commit the deed, until the deed was already done... its actions speak for itself. Weak, powerless... that is, until it found a way to utilize the immense power of others.

And so, Michael Myers looked down upon the Entity in a way that no killer had thought to before, for reasons no killer had recognized before. The Entity saw this, and resented him deeply for knowing the truth that it so forcibly denied. But Michael stood tall, unafraid of the Entity and the fate it promised upon its monstrous victims who refused to follow its will; a fate which still had yet to be seen. Michael had considered that this fate didn't even exit.

But that day was coming. Albeit slowly, Michael was planning his escape. He would take down the Entity and continue his evil reign. All he needed was time...

And, quite possibly... a _human_.

At first, the thought for Michael was absolutely unfathomable. As was said earlier, these thoughts are not accurately represented on paper, but will be expressed in a way that other _worldly _beings, who were not produced within an undefinible realm of evil, may understand.

Therefore, the thoughts of a human aiding him in escaping this realm were, in the very least, quite undesirable. That is, until he came across a human girl who was so careless and unwary of herself, that she would put herself in danger in order to experience something other than constant fear and torture. Myers was able to recognize this as soon as her face wisped forward within mere inches of his own, concealed beneath an ugly, trademark white-faced mask, while her fearful yet excited eyes flashed above him, sparking his curiosity. No one had ever dared to step close to him before. Actually, he had attempted this "sleeping" trick many times before, but to no avail, simply losing the 'matches' surprisingly quickly and consequently losing his 'points' with the Entity, which truly had no meaning to him. And so, Michael was utterly astonished when the girl crept closer and closer to him, leaning over his face, but not stopping there... actually, continuing to _molest_ him moments later, which resulted in a feeling he had never come close to experiencing before. And so, he had seen in this girl, something he had never seen before.

Something he not only needed, but something he _wanted._

Something he was willing to argue for, even if it meant a fate that he couldn't guaruntee. Michael could never know exactly what would be in store for him after he suggested the Entity to bring a humaninto this realm alongside him, to aid him in his "fight against the other humans".

As expected, the Entity was never receptive to this idea, although thankfully, she never hinted that she felt Michael could be suggesting this based off any other notion than wanting to defeat the survivors.

As time progressed, Michael found himself unable to pursue survivors with any true satisfaction or endearment, and therefore the process meant nothing to him. Dwight after Dwight, Jake after Jake, Nea after Nea... they all looked the same to him, and somehow, he never came across _her _again.

Once again, he found himself within the chamber of the Entity's grasp, summoned again to answer her meaningless, vapid questions.

As it came to be, as soon as she was face to face with him, one of these questions arose, dense with ignorance. "Michael, why are you failing so miserably?"

Michael stood calmly in response. Somewhere within his 'spirit', as one might call it, a condescending chuckle arose. What a human might describe as a sigh emanated from within him, as he forced himself not to lunge forward and attack the Entity; something he knew would be of no use in the state of displacement he was currently stuck in.

"Almighty Entity," Michael bared through spiritually gritted teeth, as the killers were forced to address her. "My power is nearly extinguished. As I mentioned before, I need something to support me."

"The infamous Michael Myers needs a support system?" sneered the Entity, improfessional as ever, as if it had ever lifted a finger of its own to complete these arduous contracts. "How could you possibly require a support system?"

Myers' initial response was a stereotypical silence. Until suddenly, he grumbled, "My power fades daily as these stages do not stimulate or challenge me." He glared at the Entity through his white-faced mask. "Survivors grow in power daily, while we Killers remain the same. Fix this. Or I will disappear, and your revenues will cease dramatically."

The Entity remained motionless for a moment, its spidery arms twitching slightly and conveying an emotion it did not intend for Myers to notice: an apparent feeling of discomfort. How could he possibly know about its revenues? And how could he be aware of the revenues it managed to generate off of the killers, let alone the revenues from Myers himself?

The Entity knew what Michael wanted, as he had suggested it before, but it caused the Entity enough stress that it had never actually considered the thought. But when it was stated the way Michael had told it just now, the words made sense. Right? Nearly every killers' gains had diminished within the last few months of 'game' time, and absolutely no revenues had risen. Actually, many revenues had diminshed and many remained the same.

The Entity took a moment to consider this, its inky black limbs twitching this way and that. The creature was thinking very hard, as Michael could see, although he knew it would be quite foolish for it to turn down his offer once again, as it was quite true that almost no killer was doing very well since some recent advances in survivor technology.

"Well, Michael," the Entity began, addressing him as some sort of hopeless child. "You had better hope this suits you, and aids you in your advances. Because, simply put, if nothing is gained from this, you will be gone; forever."

Although indescerinible to the naked eye, Michael grinned mischeviously beneath the mask.

This is exactly as he had planned for. This was his escape.


	4. Chapter 4

**A New Kind of Curse**

Chapter Four

Here begins yet another dull, redundant trial led by its bloodthirsty killer, Michael Myers. Michael found himself spawned into yet another dark, moonlit forest, crows settling down atop rocks and buildings, bushes and leaves swaying against a light and undetectable breeze, and survivors surely creeping about here somewhere. None of it was entertaining anymore.

If he was capable of basic human emotions, Michael would have groaned as he weilded the kitchen knife confidently in front of him, the way a child would as it woke up for school. But, he was incapable of such outward expressions of emotion, and was doomed to live his life with thoughts and feelings left forever unexpressed.

But, that did not mean that those thoughts and feelings did not exist.

He crept around quietly, keeping an eye out for any moving and breathing sack of flesh that was destined for the sharp tip of his blade. It had been quite a while since his conversation with the Entity, and he craved for the return of this human girl, his ticket away from this dreary, hopeless dystopia. He began every match now searching for her in particular.

From around the corner of a very large rock, Michael noticed a dark green jacket creeping about, being quite useless to its other living teammates. This one definitely deserved to die.

As was his profession, Michael utilized the moment to generate power from stalking the oblivious soul, gaining power every second, remaining completely unnoticed, until instinctively his arm rose up above his head and he brandished the knife high in the air. He moved much more quickly now, and turned the corner of the large stone just as the survivor-a hopeful Jake-took off at a full sprint to keep away from him. But, it was no use, as Michael's long-legged strides allowed him to catch up very quickly. For a moment he derived some small speck of enjoyment from the sight of Jake fearfully glancing over his shoulder as he ran, terror apparent within his gleaming eyes.

The chase didn't last long before the knife came down hard into the flesh of the survivor's back. The force of Myers' stab was too great and Jake collapsed to the ground with a rather dramatic cry of pain.

Just as he had done a hundred times before, Michael effortlessly hoisted up the man, throwing him over his shoulder and walking to the nearest hook, just outside of an old wooden building. Once the man was heaved up, his body punctured through by the hook, Michael stalked off once again, searching for his next victim.

He didn't make it very far before he could hear the sounds of another person-a girl, judging by the sounds of its faint gasps-sprinting past him, somewhere out of eyesight. And so, he turned around, and in the not so far off distance caught sight of Jake hanging from the hook, and not too far before him, was the girl.

Not just any girl.

That girl.

His girl.

Michael's heart somersaulted as he watched her running carelessly across the field toward her teammate. He took note of the fact that he always saw her trying to help the others. But within a few moments he snapped out of his reverie, the unusual and euphoric feeling of excitement budding up within him, his legs carrying him faster and faster, closer and closer to the human which he had been nearly dying to see.

Michael reached the hook only a second after she did, and he stood next to her as she reached up and lifted Jake from the hook. In the fleeting moment that passed, the girl noticed him and he watched in what felt like slow motion as a flurry of emotions crossed over her face: realization, terror, and finally, what looked like hope. Her eyes were wide and her mouth fell open... like she was almost happy to see him.

That is, until his knife came down on her, slashing her cheek as she had not expected him to stab her, considering he had avoided doing so the last time she'd seen him. She screamed wildly and sprinted forward without a second thought, throwing glances over her shoulder to see if he was following; which he was.

"Why?" she screamed in terror as he chased her through the forest, and into a decrepit building that was in shambles. She turned a corner as quickly as her injured body would allow, which was a mistake, as that tiny moment of time allowed Michael the chance to reach out again with his blade, slashing her back and tearing her shirt, where blood immediately began to spurt from the open gash and staining the shirt above it. She fell to the ground, weeping. He stood above her, staring her down, taking a few moments to consider what should happen next.

The Entity was very clear that this process required a bit of focus, skill, and luck. If he should fail this time, who knows how long it could be before he would see her again, and his plan would be postponed for a second time. He couldn't bare the thought.

Michael stooped down, wrapping his large hands around her waist, picking her up and carrying her over his shoulder. He noticed that instead of struggling, her body was draped over him rather comfortably, almost as if she were relishing this moment and drinking up this feeling of being held by him.

That's impossible, Michael thought. She is probably just stupid.

Michael turned around, and was internally joyed to see the dark stairs to the basement were just in front of him. From the corner of his eye he noticed another survivor peeking in the doorway, drawn by the screams of its comrade and hoping to be of help, although unknowingly, it was helping the killer.

He walked a bit slowly down the stairs, considering that this girl was probably expecting to be thrown on the hook and murdered just like any other trial. But in reality, she was so very wrong.

He turned the corner and the dim, reddish glow enveloped the two beneath its demonic light, powered only by the evil which was generated within these hellish basements. Michael quite enjoyed it here, as the devilish quality of the environment only inspired him to be even more ruthless and evil.

But evil still had its limits, and its exceptions. And this girl was a lucky winner.

Instead of just dropping her to the floor, Michael stooped downward from his immense height, placing the girl on the ground quite tenderly, a gesture that was unheard of from the infamous Michael Myers. The girl stared at him in disbelief, clutching her arm as she rested up against the old wooden boards that made up the wall. Michael stared back at her, studying her face, and realized that her features actually quite tickled his fancy, in some way or another. Unlike some of the other survivors, she was quite appealing for him to look at, even when she wasn't drenched in blood; a sight he always loved to see.

And after a moment, he lifted himself up and turned again, just in time to notice a deep red locker door moving quietly closed.

_Too easy, _he thought to himself as he stalked up to the locker, wrenching open the doors, and was met face to face with Meg, whose eyes bulged wide with fear. She realized that she had made a terrible mistake.

And so, a few moments later, Michael was decorated with her blood as he redundantly tossed her body onto the Entity's hook. She cried out in pain, and he took a moment to watch her, his face inches from her own as she twisted and convulsed with agony. He held the tip of his knife to her face, considering for a moment if this was a moment to be celebrated with an extra slice of her skin, decorating her face with the macabre mark of Michael Myers.

But he didn't, for once again his focus shifted as he heard the girl behind him cry out, "Michael, don't!"

He did not react or respond to her exclamation, and only stood motionless for another moment, before turning and stalking back up the basement stairs, in search of his next kill.


	5. Chapter 5

**A New Kind of Curse**

Chapter Five

The girl laid there, crying and whining quietly on the floor of the basement, which was dirtied with so much blood, wet and dried, old and new. She looked up to Meg who dangled helplessly from the hook; she willed herself to get up and save her, but her body was so injured that she could not muster the strength to get herself off of the floor.

Meg stared down at her with a mixture of pain and anger. "Why..." she groaned, struggling to form her words. "Why didn't he hook _you?_" she finally spat.

The guilt came crashing down on the girl, who somehow felt as if this could really be her fault, although she had no say in the actions of the brutal murderer. "I don't know," she half whined, half sobbed. "I don't know Meg, Michael has acted crazy toward me the last few times I've seen him in the trials... I'm scared, I don't know what he's going to do to me!"

Meg's expression changed as she could see the true desperation on the girl's face. Her cheeks were wet with tears, her body shook profusely, and she was sitting in a pool of her own blood.

Meg herself cried out as the Entity's claws appeared from thin air, coming down and nearly impaling her. She struggled with her arms clutching at the Entity's spidery limbs, and prayed to anything above that someone would come and save them.

But her fears were only deepened as the sound of Jake's terrorized scream rang out from the floor above them, and only about a minute later, the same sound rang out from what sounded like Claudette a few meters away. Curse these survivors who huddle together and make it so easy for the killer to kill. Within moments, a heartbeat rang out within the two girls' ears, and Michael came down the stairs, baring an angry Jake whose arms flailed and punched at the bloodthirsty man, but it was no use. Within moments he joined Meg on the hook, who was unable to focus on anything except her struggle against the Entity. Then Michael left again, presumably to retrieve the other downed survivor, and returned moments later with the woman also attempting to wiggle her way from his grasp. But, instead of being thrown on the other bloodied hook, he tossed her body to the ground right in front of the girl who still sat against the wall of the basement.

The girl cried and whimpered in terror, as she could see this situation was taking a turn for the worse. In this life, anything out of the ordinary was always bad news; like when the ground suddenly began to rumble, bells tolling every few seconds after an exit gate was opened, for example. That took some time getting used to.

And now, the girl wondered once again, what sort of fate she was destined for with Michael Myers.

She stared up at his emotionless body, which stared back down at her. She wondered for a moment what he was thinking, if anything. But she didn't have much time to consider, as he crouched down next to her slowly. She drew in a terrified breath, shying away from the stalker and leaning as far away from him as she could without falling over, but his face drew nearer and nearer.

_Hhhhh, hhhhh. _That sound of Michael breathing through his mask. The thought of him so closely resembling a human beneath that mask and bodysuit somehow terrified her even more.

"What are you doing?" she sobbed aloud.

As a response, Michael's hand came forward, knife in hand.

She stared down at it, eyes wide, mouth gaping. She didn't understand at first. But then she did.

Offering. He was offering her the blade.

She had no inital reaction except to stare at the knife and back at him, a tear cascading smoothly down her cheek.

"What the _fuck?!_" Jake choked from the hook, having seen what was happening, and beginning to understand the gesture himself. At this point, the girl noticed that Meg had already been taken by the Entity, as she was nowhere to be found.

Michael pushed the blade even closer to the girl now, growing impatient. Still she backed away as far as she could.

"What?! No! Why?_ No!"_ she cried desperately. _What does he want me to do?_

Claudette still lay there, silently. Quiet, as was her nature. Still, both the girl and Michael noticed the way she shivered in distress, her eyes conveying every emotion that her mouth didn't speak. The girl sobbed loudly as she began to realize what Michael wanted her to do.

She looked at the masked man once again, her face twisted and contorted, wholly disturbed. "Why Michael?"

That masked face just stared back at her.

"_Why?" _she cried again.

Tired of waiting, Michael shuffled forward, and the girl screamed in fright. She attempted to move away, and squirmed as much as her injured body would allow her, but she was too weak to jump up and run. Before she knew it, a heavy hand had wrapped around her shoulder, and she was being forcefully pulled closer to Michael. She shivered as he grabbed her, positioning himself behind her, both of his arms wrapped around her with her back nestled in between his long, crouched legs. As if he was about to teach her how to swing a bat, or a golf club.

Except that he was about to teach her how to swing a knife.

Finally a pained, sorrowed noise escaped from Claudette; the girl stared down at her comrade in horror as tremendous guilt flowed through her veins.

"Mara," she spoke the girl's name with what energy she had left. "I think... I think Michael is initiating you."

Mara shook her head wildly in denial. If it were anyone else's warm, muscular arms wrapped around her, she would feel entirely safe, happy, and comfortable. But this was Michael Myers standing behind her, his hand snaking down her arm, his fingers tracing her skin all the way, sending shivers through her spine. The palm of his hand settled on her skin at her wrist, and he wrapped his hand around the outside of hers. _Hhhhh, hhhhh. _Now his breath was tickling at her hair, her neck, her ear. She could lightly feel the latex of his mask brushing against the side of her face, hovering just above her shoulder.

She nearly vomited all over the poor woman beneath her. Instinctively she pulled away to the opposite side of him, her shoulder coming up to her neck, like a child who was being tickled. This only caused Michael to force her back the other way, squeezing her more tightly within his arms.

With his hand still resting on the outside of her own, his palm to the back of her hand, the murderer's thumb began to snake throught the crook of the girl's thumb and forefinger, applying pressure and forcing her hand to open. His left arm snaked around her side, pressing the handle of the blade tightly into her hand, and used his fingers once again to force her to grip the blade.

Mara was too weak to even attempt to fight back. Tears continued to roll down her cheeks in a stream, her lips tightening in a childlike sob as she stared down at one of her favorite teammates. "Claudette," she stammered in a voice full of anguish. "Claudette, I'm so-I'm so sorry." She tried to release her grip from the kitchen knife, but Michael's grip was too strong.

"No," she whispered as her arm was slowly lifted by the killer's. She hadn't noticed that his other arm continued to rest comfortably wrapped around her waist, his hand gently grasping her hip in an unnoticed and uncharacteristic sign of intimacy.

Once the killer's arm was raised high in the air, and the girl's along with it, it remained for a moment, unmoving. The red light of the basement gleamed off of the face of the knife, shining down on Claudette's eyes which tremored slightly with genuine terror.

Mara wondered why these seconds continued to pass, her arm suspended in the air, the other hand resting unconsciously on Michael's thigh, his legs bent and wrapping around her sides. Her fingers were digging into the navy jumpsuit, but he didn't notice.

He was too busy savouring this delicious moment. The moment he brought an innocent woman into the maddening world of sin. The world he had resided in since childhood. His eyes drank in Claudette's palpable fear. He was nearly aroused by the two womens' dramatic show of human emotion: the terror, the sadness, hopelessness, and defeat. He so thoroughly enjoyed the way Mara cried and shook between his arms, that his left arm clenched her body very tightly against his own. But then he shifted, his arm moving upward and now cinching around her waist, her back pressing against his chest. This is why he decided to savour this moment.

But the moment was not to be savoured for very long. Just as is with anything, in any physical realm, no moment can be savoured forever.

And so, Michael sucked in his breath, his left arm finally leaving the girl's waist and flying up to join its hold on the handle of his favorite blade. Both of his hands now held hers suspended in the air, and within a moment, the blade came flying down, and together, Michael and Mara plunged the blade into Claudette's chest. Claudette heaved, her body unable to withstand the tremendous pressure, her knees flying up to nearly meet her stomach as she let out an antagonized wail of pain.

It was impossible to discern the difference between the exclamations of both women. The basement was filled with a noisy cacaphony of screaming.

If Michael could laugh, he would have laughed uncontrollably as he pulled the knife from Claudette's chest, Mara's hand still wrapped beneath his, before plunging it down once again.

Their victim screamed, cried, and thrashed about with every entrance of his knife into her body. Mara's mind was being stained and traumatized by the scene and the feeling of this weapon clasped within her hand as it so smoothly entered the flesh of her teammate, her friend-her victim.

Michael kept going until Claudette could scream no longer. Puncture wounds covered her torso, her chest, her neck, and one had even broken into her face, leaving a gorgeous bloody hole right in the side of her cheek.

Once the woman stopped moving, the fun was over, and Michael released his grip upon Mara's hand, his arms now falling to wrap themselves around her waist once again. Before she could understand what was happening, or even respond, the terrified girl was hoisted upward, spun around on her feet, and subsequently slammed hard against the wall of the basement. She thought she could hear the sound of the wooden boards giving way beneath the force of her back colliding with it.

Michael forced her against the wall with both of his hands wrapped around her biceps. He looked down into her beautiful, pale, blood-stained and tormented face. She continued to sob, her eyes closed, wrinkled in an expression of intense grief and agony. He continued to watch her shriek and sob and cry for quite a few moments until finally she calmed down enough to open her eyes and look back up at him, as he stared back down at her.

Her breaths came out as shudders, and she gasped through an intense show of emotion. She looked up into the eyeholes of his mask, wondering how such a creature could ever be brought into the world.

She drew a quick breath in as she felt the palm of his hand press ever so gently against the side of her face... caressing her.

_What the fuck is going on here? _she wondered to herself.

His hand continued to move smoothly across her skin, his fingertips softly drifting up and down the side of her face ever so slowly. Feeling her. Tracing her features. Until his palm rested against her face once again, and fell gradually, his fingertips now resting below her jawline. She hadn't noticed as his left hand had now left her bicep and was snaking its way up her shoulder to caress her in the same way the other hand did.

Her eyes closed, no longer staring up into the killer's mask. Somehow he felt as if he missed the feeling of her eyes staring fearfully up at him, and his head tilted ever so slightly in response to her gaze being averted. But still, he enjoyed to study her face with her eyes closed nearly all the same.

Within moments, his hands came together, thumb to thumb and finger to finger, wrapped around the entirety of her neck. Then, quite gently, he began to squeeze. She gasped while she could, startled and surprised, her hands flying up to clasp at his forearms in an attempt to pull them away, as his thumbs began to press harder and harder at the front of her neck. What felt like ages passed as the air within her body was slowly squeezed out of her, her eyes and lips began to lose feeling, and she gurgled and choked by the hands of the man she had once fucked in a desperate attempt for some feeling of romance and closeness. How betrayed she felt.

_I could have loved you, _she thought to herself.

**You do love me.**

But she could not hear these foreign thoughts that had traversed into her mind from one that was not her own, as her consciousness was so quickly being snuffed out at the hands of this ruthless murderer. Her legs trembled, kicked and thrased as they now hung suspended in the air.

Michael's arms flexed as he began to squeeze with all his might, and he watched with pleasure as her eyes began to roll to the back of her head, mouth falling agape, body going limp as a wilted flower. When he let go, her body collapsed to the floor with an empty, satisfying _thump._

She was dead now.

But their story doesn't end here.


End file.
